Some Devils
by Bellsie805
Summary: The stars bore witness to the sinners burying their sins in makeshift confessionals throughout the quiet hospital.
1. Dr James Wilson

**Author's Note:** Wilson, Stacy, Cuddy, Cameron, and House do not belong to me. Dave Matthews owns _Some Devil_.

_One last kiss_

_One only_

_Then I'll let you go_

The night was late and, like all nights, bore down upon people in blinding darkness. The men and women still lurking about Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital stashed away their pain in the quiet of the night with only the stars as their witnesses. There was the man who didn't want to go home to his wife, for he loved women more than he loved the thought of marriage. There was the woman who sat next to her very ill husband thinking of the path not taken with a certain doctor. There was another woman sitting in her office wondering about life and why the night found her locked inside her office with a bottle of Chardonnay and dying roses. Another woman sat contemplating her penchant for falling in love with men who needed to be "fixed". And then there was the final man, a catalyst in his own right, who sat in his own office, reflecting on the fading yellow pictures from a photo booth. The night hid these sad creatures from the punishing light of day as each one contemplated the blows that had been dealt to them. Tomorrow, they all feared, would appear in the east too soon.

_Hard for you_

_I've fallen_

_But you can't break my fall_

_I'm broken_

_Don't break me_

_When I hit the ground_

Dr. James Wilson, the brilliant oncologist, took a page from Dr. House's playbook. He sat alone in a room titled "Exam Room #3". With a tongue depressor in his right hand and a cup of cotton balls in the other, he was attempting to launch said cotton balls into the garbage can. He was reclining back on the table, which made it slightly harder than it seemed. So far, a good number of the white puffs lay scattered on the ground, collecting like snow in the winter. Some had made it to their target in the garbage can, but Wilson never admitted to having much talent in this area. He usually left those things up to House.

He sighed and put another cotton ball on the tongue depressor and flicked it. This one landed in the can, and Wilson let himself smile. His date had called three hours ago and cancelled on him. It was excellent that he wasn't a practicing religious man. If he were, he'd burn in Hell for various sins committed. Wilson's two lives, when juxtaposed, were startling contrasts to one another. He was the _nice_, comforting doctor with the pretty wife. Then he was the smooth talker, the cheater, the adulterer…the man whose friendship with House didn't seem so odd if it was his second character one was looking at closely.

The next cotton ball missed and he thought about Allison Cameron. She was pretty, he conceded, but she was House's. It was a wonder House had not tried to offload her on to his best friend. Even if Wilson was married, sinning was much more fun than being a saint. So, he watched her beauty from afar, thinking that if House screwed things up so miserably with her and if he finally got a divorce from Juliet that Cameron might accept a date with him. It was far-fetched, he knew, but a man could hope.

There were no lights on in the room and he liked it better that way. Angels dwelled in the light and the shady characters like him cowered in the dark. He, so good in the light, was so bad in the dark. He squirreled away his pain in an empty exam room in an empty hospital. He confessed his sins to tongue depressors and cotton balls. The floor, covered with cotton, reminded him of snowy days and purity and all the things people thought he was, but he really wasn't. He reached for another cotton ball.

When he reached into the container, he felt only the plastic bottom. With a sigh, he flicked the tongue depressor into the garbage can. Unless he could find something to do, he would _have_ to go home tonight. He cringed at the thought and decided to find something productive to do. Maybe House was up for a game of cards…


	2. Stacy Warner

_Some devil_

_Some angel_

_Has got me to the bones_

_You said always and forever_

_Now I believe you baby_

_You said always and forever_

_Is such a long and lonely time_

Stacy Warner knew one thing about medicine. The beeping of the monitors in the room meant that her husband was alive. When the beeping stopped and became one long hum of sound, she knew that he would be taken from her. Standing at the window looking out into the terrifyingly dark night, Stacy wasn't thinking about her husband. The moon was not out tonight, she noted, and the stars shone more brightly in the sky than usual. While Princeton wasn't an extremely large city, stargazers were often out of luck because of the infiltration of air pollution. The stars leant a small amount of light to brighten the room slightly, but it barely made a difference. The monitors glowed green and caused the room to take on an eerie sheen. Stacy felt that, without the presence of the punishing daylight, she looked better. The lines on her face were not as obvious and the concern in her eyes did not show easily. She kept her eyes trained out the window for a few more seconds before turning around to gaze on her husband.

Tom had always been good to her, she thought, and made her way to sit by his side once again. He had taken her in and loved her. House's sarcasm left her bitter and always defensive. Tom had chipped away at her front and they lived happily together. But now, here they were again. She had come to House because she _knew_ he was the only doctor who could possibly fix her husband. Tom had done so much for her and now she let his life lie in the hands of her former lover.

Oh, yes, Dr. House. She broke his heart. She sighed and looked at her husband's peaceful face and ran her finger along his eyebrow. House brought heartbreak onto himself. It wasn't her fault that his snide and bitter remarks gained him no friends and apparently no lovers except for that young female doctor. She had been tired of being in a _negative_ relationship with someone. Were there good times? Of course there were. There were dinners and dancing before his leg. There were nights spent taking long walks around parks. There were many nights spent with each other, enjoying the company of another human being. But all that was before his leg. Before she grew tired of dealing with a cripple _and_ a sarcastic man. It was before she left one night, leaving only a letter explaining that she just _couldn't _handle him anymore. It was hard for her, being a confident and usually self-assured woman, to admit defeat in anything she did, be it love or career. Saying she couldn't handle him, meant giving up on _something_.

Defeat was something she couldn't handle. When weighing her options, she realized that if she continued to live with House, she'd leave in defeat no matter what happened. And, figuring it was easier to leave with her dignity intact and on her own terms, she left with more of a draw than a defeat or victory.

To the victor goes the spoils, said William Macy—or was it Marcy? But had she had a victory over House—a clean break, dissolution of her feelings toward him—what would have been the spoils? A _truly_ happy marriage, more focus on her work, and the ability to look on the past more happily? She didn't know what they would have been. She took her hand back from her husband's head and decided that if House was only a few turns down the hall, she needed to settle with him their relationship that had supposedly been settled five years ago. She needed to move on and she needed to help Tom get well again. But she couldn't do it when she was thinking on the life she could have had if she had made a clean break with House. She didn't want to admit the other reason that made her feel compelled to finally cut the strings that were left hanging at the end of their ripped relationship.

She had been thinking about how life could have been if she had stayed with House.


	3. Dr Lisa Cuddy

**Author's Note: ** Thanks for the reviews!

_Too drunk and_

_Still drinking_

_It's just the way I feel_

_It's all right_

_Is what you told me_

_'Cause what we had was so beautiful_

_Feel heavy_

_Like floating_

_At the bottom of the sea_

Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, looked at the wine and the dying flowers on her desk. Hard, strong woman she was, she was still a sucker for a glass of Chardonnay and a dying bunch of roses. The roses had been a farewell gift from one of her many suitors—the man had moved onto another woman in another town and left her with an old batch of beat-up roses and a bottle of wine.

The flowers had arrived earlier in the day and the wine had appeared when the hospital grew dark. Three glasses had already been downed and that was not hardly enough for Cuddy.

She leaned back in her chair, letting her still-pump-clad feet lay on the desk calendar. She held her red wine in her left hand and looked at it in the darkness. The darkness distorted it and made it look darker than it was. Looking through the glass, she saw the pictures of her nieces and nephews.

Her sister had married a _nice_ guy. She had introduced him to the family on Thanksgiving and their mother instantly fell in love with his neatly pressed slacks, Ralph Lauren shirt, and turkey tie.

"The perfect man!" She gushed to Cuddy in the privacy of the bustling, hot kitchen.

"There is no such thing," a younger Lisa shot back.

Apparently, she had been wrong, for all Krissy ever talked about was how beautiful the flowers Bobby had brought home were, how sweet he was to their kids, and how he treated her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Cuddy wanted to gag whenever they were on the phone.

They had had two kids, Katie and Kevin. Cuddy stared at their blue eyes and blonde hair thinking about how clichéd the whole situation was. Bobby and Krissy even had a golden retriever to complete the whole "nuclear family" scene. Cuddy scoffed at the idea and tilted her head back to study the ceiling.

It was true that her breast size was large and that she was unafraid to flaunt it. Women, she had discovered, always got ahead faster and farther if they were smart and had big breasts. The low-cut shirts and the sexy/messy hair were her way of not only showing off what she had been born with, but also coping with small tragedies in her life.

She liked to organize her shirts and skirts to match her moods. One section of her closet was devoted to the "in-a-relationship" stage. There were more conservative tops that did not emphasize her cleavage as much. Then, of course, there were the more daring and plunging tops—the "just-broke-up-_again_" tops—that she wore after another man had sent flowers and left her.

She didn't like to wear the low-cut shirts, to be honest, but they brought her a sense of worth. Everyone in the damned hospital was damaged—it was a silent disease that none of them had figured out how to treat. She herself was included in that group. When she saw a man stare at her chest for a few seconds longer than he should have, a broken piece of her heart made its way back into its appointed spot where it had been before a nameless boyfriend had crushed it.

She should be used to it by now, she thought, as she downed the Chardonnay and reached for the whole bottle, giving up on the theory of civilized drinking. Men didn't _like_ strong women and were intimidated by them. Men were _scared_ of beautiful and strong women. She was the latter and thus found most men cowering behind facades of maleness.

She thought about House and how no one intimidated him. He was a man, and reveled in the "peep show", but he was not intimidated. The world had cut him into strips and fed him to the lions, so it didn't matter what anyone else thought of him now. He knew it was useless to feel intimidated (or to feel any other emotion than bitterness), and she admired him for that.

Cuddy thought about turning some music on, but how would that help? Music solved nothing, she learned after listening to Christmas music when a December boyfriend had broken up with her. Music helped soothe the pain and then, when the music stopped, the pain came back, as if the music had never been on in the first place.

She took another swig of wine directly from the bottle and sighed once again. The hospital was all void except for the patients and these were the times that she became completely vulnerable. When only the stars were present to judge her, it did not matter that she was weak and teary-eyed. Nothing mattered. Here she sat, by herself, with dead red roses and a dreary bottle of cheap Chardonnay. What sins had she committed? Pride, she thought, was one and she took a drink for the wine. Gluttony? Yeah, too much wine. She took another swig. Lust? Of course, over many men. Another drink.

She went down the list. Catechism courses as a child paid off when she needed religion to give her a reason to drink. The bottle was half-empty and she kept drinking. One bottle of wine would not make her drunk and she regretted the fact. She hated drinking alone, for there was no one with whom to share the euphoric high.

As she put the empty bottle down on the table, she gazed out of her office windows. She almost screamed as she saw another human being's face through the window. The person pushed open the door and walked into her office.

"I thought I locked the door."

"You didn't. Why are you still here?"

"Same reason you are. Too many break-ups, too many lonely nights…too much paperwork."

"You finished the Chardonnay all by your lonesome?"

"Yeah, who said I couldn't hold my wine?"

"No one, but drinking alone gets you nowhere."

"And where does drinking with someone get me then? It just leaves me with less alcohol than I would have if I was drinking by myself."

"No, it gives you someone to share it with."

"Sharing is overrated."

"Dr. Cuddy, sharing is caring."

"Dr. Wilson, I don't care."

The doctors looked at each other and realized in the dark of the night that, as two broken souls, wine would help mend their wounds for a time. They both realized, though, that the wine was a temporary cure and tomorrow morning nothing would be left but the pain and the hangover. Cuddy reached underneath her desk to grab the second bottle of wine she had. She popped open the cork and poured some into the glass. She handed it to Wilson and raised the bottle in a toast.

"To the two loneliest people in the hospital," she proposed.

The glass of the bottle and of the goblet clinked and each took a swallow. Each brought their own miseries to the equation, but for now, they each took comfort in the fact that the wine would strangle their pain and that the guilt of drinking a whole bottle of wine by oneself would not emerge. Not tonight.


	4. Dr Allison Cameron

**Author's Note: **I'm usually better at writing Cameron than this, but the next chapter shall be muy good and then the one after that even better. Thanks to Amanda for correcting me about the Chardonnay…I don't drink, so I don't know.

_You said always and forever_

_Now I believe you baby_

_You said always and forever_

_Is such a long and lonely time_

Dr. Allison Cameron sat outside the hospital watching the stars. She used to stop and watch the celestial bodies all the time, but now, when life was busy and crammed into all twenty-four hours of a day, the stars were just the background onto which the loneliest moments of her life played out. It was the middle of May, so she found the Gemini twins easily and Leo the lion also jumped from the black canvas.

She remembered small bits of astronomy from the times in high school when she and her best friend used to attend the astronomy club. She liked science, but her friend did not and she always had to drag her to science-y activities. But her friend went, and they usually enjoyed themselves.

Cameron traced the imaginary lines of the constellations with her eyes. People, she decided, definitely did not stop enough to look at the stars. The universe was so infinite and many people thought themselves the center of it. She chuckled. She knew one of those people.

She did not want to "fix" House. She did not _need_ him, either. She needed no one. In this world, her best friend used to say, no one cares about anyone but themselves.

People leave all the time. Maybe House was right when he guessed she married her husband because she needed him. But she needed him for a reason House had not figured. She looked down at her clasped hands. She wanted a baby badly and her husband and been so desperately in love with her that he would do anything he could to make her happy. So, in the spirit of being a good Catholic, she married a dying man to have a baby in wedlock. It ended up that he died before anything could come of the marriage, leaving Cameron a broken woman.

House thought she was naïve. She conceded that he was probably right. Naiveté, she imagined, was an excuse for many things. She loved a man who _liked_ her. She sighed and got up off the bench. He should not be distracting her from the stars.

The stars reminded her of the teacher who used to run the astronomy club she and her friend had attended. She had always had a thing for older men and had had a crush on this teacher. He had a sarcastic sense of humor and was more sexist than House on bad days. But he was a challenge. He was difficult, and Cameron was not. Yes, she had a bit of a hard streak in her, but House was right. She was a stuffed animal.

But she and the teacher had had dinner when she graduated from high school. They enjoyed each other's company immensely and dated for a short time. The repercussions from the relationship made her worry about the feelings she was having for House, but she remembered all the good times she and the teacher had had and knew that it might be worth it.

She contemplated her sins in the darkness. She sat back down and looked at the white smudge of light in the sky—the Andromeda Galaxy. She wondered if there was life on other planets. She wondered whether or not there was another House and another Cameron who were _not_ dancing around one each, but embracing one another. Maybe that House never knew Stacy and never had a leg infarction. Maybe that Cameron never got married. Maybe neither was doctors.

There were too many maybes in the universe and maybe that was why no one stopped and looked at the universe. Too much uncertainty that did not mean much to many people.

Ah, yes, her fatal flaw, she decided as a group of clouds previously unseen, rolled in and covered the stars. With these clouds came rain and lightning. The sky lit up and the droplets fell. Yes, the fatal flaw, an undying sin, was her unique interest in self-sacrifice. She'd give up herself to save an idea, a cause, and a man, to seem _noble_. But, here, to the hidden stars, she admitted that nobility was overrated and she needed to stop being needy. She knew that lying to herself would get her nowhere. House was right; she needed him.

As the rain fell, it washed away her make-up and have-to-prove-herself pretenses. This was simply Allison Cameron. She was weak, naïve, and scared. She _needed _House because he liked her. She _needed_ House because she needed someone to give her a sweatshirt and a towel now that she was drenched. She _needed_ him because he was as bitter and angry at the world, as she was hopeless and pathetic.

She stood up from the bench and decided to leave the stars and the rain behind. She _needed_ to talk to House.


	5. Dr Gregory House

_Some devil is_

_Stuck inside of me_

_I cannot set it free_

_I wish, I wish I was dead and_

_You breathing_

Dr. Gregory House, the most sardonic doctor in the weird-enough-already state of New Jersey, stared at the yellowing strip of photographs that he held in his hands. Stacy and he had gone to see _Mission Impossible II_. It was House's choice and Stacy had not been pleased, but she put up with it to be with him in a darkened movie theater. He didn't remember if he even saw any of the action film. He remembered the taste of Stacy's lip-gloss—cinnamon—and feeding her popcorn. It was supposed to have been a crappy movie anyway.

Why, why did these women insist on hunting him down and wanting to make him their "boy toy?" He was a curmudgeon and he liked it that way! Being alone and bitter did suck, he admitted, but it freed him from the restraints of having a woman around. There was no one to buy flowers for and no one on whom to waste money. He could turn up his music and listen to it as loud as he wanted. He was free.

Although he considered himself "free", another part of him wished that he wasn't so…free. Love was essential to the human spirit and no matter how hard he seemed, even he could not prevent the emotion from wanting to course through his veins. But he had another part of him that was his defense mechanism and pushed people away. Rejection protected his derelict heart.

House considered Cameron first. She was _beautiful_. She was _nice_. She liked him and apparently needed him. Yes, he found it exhausting to be hounded by a beautiful woman when he himself was not at all beautiful. Detached sarcasm saved him from being swallowed by insecurity.

Yes, Greg House _insecure_. Especially around women. He could handle them with some stupid comment and bad attitude, but facades were two-for-one every weekend at the Home Depot. Cameron made him wear his masks, because she was _aggressive_. He loved her intelligence and passion, but he was scared because he was not in charge of the situation and the last time that had happened…

Well, the last time that had happened he left with a crippled leg and a broken heart. Stacy had worn her stiletto boots and trampled all over the organ when she left. She liked being in power, too. She liked wearing her black mini-skirt, knee-high black leather boots, and tight black sweater when breaking up with men. It was her way of mourning and saying, "ha-ha, look at the loser who fell for me and actually believed I loved him."

Oh, yes, Stacy was a real feminist all right. She was a lawyer extraordinaire and a self-proclaimed "ball-buster". He liked to match wits with her. Verbal fights and then tussles in bed—how fun it had been when he still had a functioning leg and a woman with whom to sleep.

But now, he was different. Why? He didn't really have an answer. Yes, the leg was a terrifically large part of it, but so was Stacy. He was different—did he need the ball-busting attitude of Stacy or did he need the comforting, let-me-fix-you attitude of Cameron?

God, it was a shame he had broken his damn magic-8 ball when he had thrown it at Chase the one day for being too much of a smart-ass. Shit, what to do? Cuddy would tell him to sleep with either one—just come back with a better bedside manner. That and a better attitude towards clinic work. Wilson would tell him to send whomever he didn't sleep with over to his apartment—Wilson would be in it for the sex.

Well, Wilson wouldn't be in it for the sex. Wilson lived a sad life, just like House did. A domineering wife was no fun to go home to night after night, especially when your job was diagnosing people with a horrific disease. No, Wilson was in it for something more. Something he could convince himself into believing was more than meaningless sex.

Cuddy, he also knew, lived an empty life. Time after time, when he needed her good alcohol stash, he found her downing the expensive wines by herself. Always wine, he noted, no cosmos or martinis for her. She liked the layers in the wine—too bad most of the men she ended up with were one-dimensional and left her seeking solace in her drinks.

Yes, they all lived very sad lives here. Some of them put on the cheerful mask in front of patients because they knew these people needed help. House, unlike Cuddy and Wilson, preferred to let his patients see his cracked veneer, the uneven surface, and the flaws…

So, he decided to go off to find Cuddy or Wilson, whomever he stumbled on first. He flung the old photo booth pictures on his desk, grabbed his cane and stood up quickly. He strode to the door, but turned around to snatch a marker and a sticky-note on his desk.

When House left his office, he left the door cracked open and wrote on the yellow Post-It "Gone Fishin'", and he stuck on his door to humor/piss off the gods. Maybe they'd decide to strike him down so he wouldn't have to deal with ex-girlfriends, starry-eyed admirers, or annoying hypochondriacs in the clinic. He knew he wouldn't be that lucky. He decided to look for Cuddy first.

He took a few turns and arrived at her office. The blinds were closed and the door was also shut. He pushed on it and found himself watching as Wilson and Cuddy sat on the floor with a bottle of win between them, laughing hysterically. Cuddy's face looked naturally blushed for once, not full of all the make-up crap, House noted. Wilson's tie was loose and he seemed to be having a good time. House tapped his cane on the floor three times. He regretted his need for attention, but there was _alcohol_ on the floor, for God's sake. What was he supposed to do? Stand there and watch as those two drank it all?

"Oh, God, Dr. House is in the house," Cuddy giggled furiously and Wilson smiled at her.

"Jesus, Wilson. I didn't know you were screwing _her_. When you said you had a hot date I thought you meant a nurse."

"What do you want, House? Lisa and I were enjoying a nice bottle of wine. Do you mind?"

"I do, seeing that, as your superior, Dr. _Cuddy_ here might lavish preferential treatment on you if you and she became involved."

"Aw, someone isn't getting laid enough. You should have taken Cameron while you had her. She's cute," Wilson told House.

"Now, now, boys, more than just two of us can enjoy the wine. I have another two bottles stashed away. I keep them for times like these, when I like to get my doctors helplessly drunk."

"Just give me a bottle and let me go back my office."

Cuddy stood up from the floor. She smoothed down her hair and her skirt. House noticed that her shoes were off and she was padding around in her stockings. She went to one of the cabinets lining the wall and opened it. She took one of the cheaper looking bottles out and stuck it in front of House. With the wine in front of him and seeing his two friends having a good time without him, he'd prefer not to ruin their enjoyment with his own miserable problems.

"Stay here and drink with us, Greg. Be sociable for once."

"No."

"Yes."

"Sleep with me?"

"No."

"Goodbye."

"Greg, don't be an asshole," Wilson reprimanded.

"Don't suck up, James."

"Fine, fine, your loss, though. Dr. Cuddy and I were just going to play some

cards. I don't supposed that would entice you into staying?"

"Strip poker would."

Cuddy and Wilson looked at one another. To save their friend and lose their dignity or to lose their friend and save their dignity?

"Fine," Cuddy and Wilson said simultaneously.

House snickered and eased himself to the floor.

"Oh, by the way, the cane counts."

Cuddy shot him a withering glance—even through all the haziness of the wine, she still had some sense. Wilson had a glimmer in his eye—Cuddy, undressed. House also was thinking the same thoughts—anything to get his mind off of his female problems.

They didn't know, though, that Cuddy liked to spend her weekends in Atlantic City at the poker tables.

She was looking forward to seeing House humble for once and Wilson free of all clothes. She smiled and started to deal.


	6. Stacy Warner, Dr Cameron, Dr House, and ...

**Author's Note:** Stacy's husband's name is Mark. I found it on the Fox website. I have it as Tom in the beginning chapters, but hereafter he shall be referred to as Mark.

_Just so that you could know_

_Some angel is_

_Stuck inside of me_

_But I cannot set you free_

When Stacy reached House's office, she found it empty. There was a yellow, generic Post-It on the door, though, and she removed it.

"What does it say?" A female voice from behind her asked.

"'Gone Fishin.''"

Cameron smiled a tad, but it did not reach her eyes. The two women, tolerant of one another in civil situations, were now in disputed territory—House.

"So," Stacy decided to start out with a cliché, "look what the cat dragged in."

"Yes, look. I didn't know they allowed _rats_ in the hospital," Cameron retorted.

"Aw, well, apparently they need all the doctors they can get. Poor Cuddy. Shame the quality of doctors has gone down in the past few months."

"Such a shame, too, that the reputation of lawyers keeps declining, don't you think? Have you ever heard the joke that the only good lawyer is a dead one? I find that one especially amusing."

"Taking lessons from House? He doesn't like _leeches_."

"And he doesn't like snakes."

"Touché. At least I don't give him the puppy dog eyes every time I'm within five feet of him. Oh, yes, Dr. Cameron, I've seen the looks you give him. He doesn't want you. Doesn't that hurt you?"

"At least I'm not committing adultery."

"Whoever said I was?"

"You seem to be thinking about it."

"Well, I'm a human, too, as you seem to be forgetting. Am I allowed to have feelings?"

Cameron didn't have a response, so she changed the subject.

"House needs someone who won't hurt him," a dripping Cameron told Stacy.

"I agree. He needs someone who can give his shit right back to him. He also needs someone who is…_dry_," Stacy's nose crinkled.

"At least I'm not afraid to get _wet_. He needs someone to be there for him."

"He needs someone who can give him his space."

"He needs a kindred soul to fix his bitterness."

"He needs a bruised soul to commiserate with."

"He needs someone who's single!"

Stacy stared back at Cameron. She took a step nearer to her.

"You're a _little girl_. He does not need that."

"And—" Cameron emphasized her point with a squishy step closer to Stacy, "—you're an old woman."

"At least I'm not trying to sleep with him to get the working perks."

"How dare you!"

"Please, sleep with the sarcastic hard-to-work-with boss and that will make him like you better at work. That's not House's style."

"At least I didn't make the wrong decision about his treatment. Maybe he wouldn't be so—angry at the world if you hadn't help screw up his leg."

Before Stacy could come back with another retort, they heard the familiar tapping of a cane from down the hallway. Both fell into silence, as the object of their bickering paced into view.

House was shirtless. Cameron unconsciously felt her eyes drop to his nicely toned stomach and she felt Stacy next to her stiffen. They both saw that his pants were on, but he was missing a belt. His shoes were also missing. He looked up as he turned the corner.

"Oh, _shit_."

"Greg, what in the name of God are you doing walking around the hospital in your damn birthday suit?" Stacy crossed her arms.

"That's not a birthday suit," Cameron hissed.

"Well, _you'd_ certainly like to see him in his birthday suit, now wouldn't you?"  
House turned around quickly and started back down the hall, while the two women locked each other with glares that bespoke a horrible punishment that they wanted to inflict on one another. Cameron noticed House was gone first and moved before Stacy did.

"House!" She yelled down the corridor.

"Not here!" He yelled back.

"Greg, damn it! Get your scrawny ass back here!"

Stacy's voice cut through the air and House stopped in his quick dash down the hallway. He swiveled around.

"I don't care what you two do, but _leave me alone_. Stacy, go back to your husband, maybe kill a puppy or two. Cameron, go home, maybe you can take in a wounded puppy. I'm _busy_. I'd very much like to see a catfight from you two, but if you won't oblige, I must leave."

House's eyes fell on Cameron and Stacy. He knew Cameron was thinking about ways to make him admit his feelings for her and he knew Stacy was conniving, like she normally was.

"Fine. I'm going home," Cameron, said in a move that House didn't see coming.

"And I'll go back to Mark."

Stacy turned on her heel and left first. Cameron started walking away slower.

"Dr. Cameron, tell me why you're dripping."

"It's raining."

"And you were stupid enough to think that catching a cold would help treat patients?"

"Why do we, as children, Dr. House, dance in the rain and catch it in our mouths? And why, Dr. House, do we shy away from the rain as adults? No one's here except a few of us, and _it doesn't matter_ anymore."

House stood there looking anywhere but at Cameron's face. He knew the answer to her question. Adults hated the rain because their sins were so many and so heavy that not even the rain could wash them away. Maybe that wasn't the answer, but tonight, with so many of them in the same space and Wilson's blabbering on about sinning, something must have stuck.

At that moment, though, when House looked up to see Cameron walking away, he realized that he _needed _her and she didn't need him. Stacy was gone—married women were not his territory. Cameron could leave him forever and would find another man…but he…he needed her. Maybe it was the light-free hallway or the rain in her hair or the alcohol that could be smelt on his breath, but something made him look at her and his mouth opened.

"Dr. Cameron, Cuddy's got some dry clothes in her office and a couple bottles of wine. Oh, and there's some strip poker. It's not everyday you get to see Wilson in his heart boxers. C'mon. Plus, Cuddy's kicking Wilson and mine's asses…we need another women, so one woman can lose her clothes."

Cameron looked disgusted and sneezed. She smiled abashedly at House.

"As long as there are dry clothes."

He nodded and started off ahead of her. She jogged up to him and put a hand on his arm.

"Listen, I can be your friend. I can be your girlfriend. I can be whatever you need me to be."

"Need. Funny. I just need you to be you," he told her.

She smiled and let the wet hair fall into her eyes. She took the crook of his arms and the two proceeded to walk down the hallway to Cuddy's office—together.

_You said always and forever_

_Now I believe you baby_

_You said always and forever_

_Such a long and lonely time_

_Stuck inside of me_

That night had dawned and found each one of the small contingent of damaged people at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital making their confessions to make-shift altars. Wilson confessed numberless sins to tongue depressors and cotton balls. Stacy chose the beeping monitors. Cuddy liked her wine. Cameron picked the stars. And House dawdled in his memories.

Night, though, now ended with daylight peeking through the blinds of many different offices throughout the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. When night withdrew its claws, new sense of spirit and hope could be found permeating the ranks of the formerly-barely living. With fate and the stars on their side, these people, so tireless during the day, found another tired soul with whom to commiserate. Cuddy and Wilson, broken by too many fights with other people, found solace in wine and each other. Comfort made interesting bedfellows. House and Cameron, broken by bad legs and murderous diseases, found relief from their seemingly endless anguish in the rain and one another. Stacy enjoyed the small pleasure of being with her husband—in sickness and in health.

Yes, the people of Princeton-Plainsboro had started tonight never wanting to see the day again. By dawn's light, each knew that the day would be fleeting and that the glorious night would once again come. And this time, none would be alone.

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the reviews. I really enjoyed writing this and I'm glad everyone else seemed to enjoy it. I'm thinking about spinning off the poker game? Any takers?


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